Quill  dots
by Kurii Sutaaru
Summary: Quill, a common serf in the middle ages, undergoes a mystical change. Amidst confusion, she loses consciousness and wakes up in  MIddle Earth! Before she realizes it, she has fallen in love with a kind elf. Quill herself, not romance, is the true story!


DISCLAIMER as well as my CLAIMS: I do not own any characters, places, or things from the Lord of the Rings that (obviously) belong to J.R.R. Tolkien; however, all other characters (Quill, Quill's family, Isaac, Aaron, etc.) and the main plot of this story are MINE.

Also, if you MUST know, Quill's story takes place a thousand years ago, sometime around the year 1,000 AD. The middle of the middle ages. Quill was raised somewhere in Medieval Europe, as a serf.

Prologue

A long, long time ago, in a time when much of this world was very ignorant, there was a young woman. Her name was Quill. She had a unique and unusual condition: her entire body lacked color. Quill's eyes were gray, her hair was white, her lips were gray, her skin was white, even the blood beneath her skin was gray.

Quill did not always have this condition; it happened suddenly. She would have been around seventeen or eighteen years old. She collapsed and was taken indoors. For two days and three nights, she was feverish, and at dawn on the third day, Quill awoke to find that all the color in her entire body was gone.

Chapter One

"Mother?" Quill opened her eyes and sat up. It was still dark, but the eastern sky was gradually growing to a gorgeous glow. She cast her eyes about the small room that was her house. In the dim, pre-dawn light, she could see familiar objects within that space. On her right was the east wall, with the doorway at the other. Quill herself was in her bed, a bundle of straw with a blanket over it and yet another blanket over herself. On her left, following the south wall, were the sacks of grain for the winter, and she knew well enough that on the other side of them were her parents' bed. She knew, also that next to the beds, built into the west wall, was the small window that they would soon have to cover to keep out the fierce winter cold. Moving along the west wall, at the foot of her parents' beds, was the stove. Along the north wall, between the stove and the door, there was nothing but space: a very small space, just large enough to provide a way to the beds. Quill observed this in just a few seconds, then called out yet again, "Mother?"

"Quill? Is your fever gone?" The comforting voice of Quill's mother, Rain, came from just the other side of the south wall, where she had been in the small vegetable garden. Rain came to the doorway, just as the sun peeped in through the doorway announcing the dawn. Quill's mother screamed, "Aaaaaaaaaaaah!" for this is what she saw: her daughter, with no color at all. Quill's once long, wavy brown hair was now white, white as the cleanest cloud. Her eyes, once two lovely shades of green, were now two shades of gray. Most shocking of all was her once golden skin (dyed by years of working in the sun) for it was now paler than the moon. Rain's eyes were wide with a mixture of fear and wonder as she screamed again, "Ghost! Specter!!"

As you can imagine, having neither mirrors nor glass nor polished metal (to see her reflection in) Quill was confused. Her now-gray eyes grew misty with tears. 

"Mother… why do you say such cruel things? Mother… Mother…" she repeated, unable to say anything else between her sobs.

It was not long before a small crowd had formed in their already small and crowded house, because the scream of Rain had, of course, caught the attention of other serfs who were working nearby (including Quill's father, Stone-will.) Each and every person who peeked into the one-room sack was just as stunned by Quill's strange transformation as everyone else. "Witchcraft," several muttered. "Zombie," "Vampire," "Ghoul," others called her. By this time, Quill had stopped crying (as all serfs know that crying is never of any use) and as she wiped the salty tears from her face, she noticed that her hands were different somehow.

she thought, _my skin has… changed!_ Quill held her arm up in the early morning light. _My hands and arms… perhaps even all of me is… _she pulled her long braided hair over her shoulder and confirmed it_. Yes, all of me is as pale and white as a ghost! But how? _She puzzled. _Why? Am I… could I be… dead?_ She moved her fingers slightly, then clasped her hand together. _My flesh is still here, warm and a bit rough, like anyone else's. _With this thought came a rush of short-lived relief that she was most certainly still alive. _So what do I do? For even if I convince them that I am not dead, they will still think me a witch. _A dreadful thought started to pass through her mind, but Quill quickly sent it away. Accusing someone else of putting a spell on her wasn't fair in her mind. Although it seemed to be exactly what must have happened, there was no way of telling who had done it, and she didn't like the idea of sending an innocent person to a fiery death on her behalf.

She looked up at the faces of the terrified and wary crowd. They were faces she had known all her life – her father, her mother, her neighbors, her friends – Quill suddenly realized with horror that not a single one among them recognized her as herself because of this strange occurrence. Slowly, Quill got up from the bed on the floor. Without a word, she walked out of the home she had known all her life and left, stopping only to take the loaf of bread Rain had baked the previous day. As she passed through the crowd, every one of them jumped to one side or another, afraid that if she touched them, they would also fall under a spell. Not very comforting, but at the same time it was a comfort in its own way. Because they were afraid to touch her, they would not capture her and have her burned at the stake, as was the custom to dispose of witches. When she passed through the fields, moving towards the gate and the road outside the manor, Quill ignored the stares of the other serfs who were working in those fields. They gawked at her in awe of her ghastly appearance, but none made an attempt to stop her from leaving. It was not until after she had passed through the gate and made some distance on the road that she finally began to calm down enough to think again.

End Chapter One.

Some of you who read this before 10/11 will notice that this chapter is now like twice as long. That's because a changed my mind about where to make the transition to Chapter 2. Thanks for reading! Oh... LOTR fans? Don't worry, the real fun begins in the next chapter.

Also, here's a few facts you may want to know: 1) A serf was a servant who was sold and bought along with the land they lived on/worked. 2) A manor is the home of a lord (sometimes a castle) and the lands surrounding it. 3) At that time and place, the Catholic Church was the only church in Europe, and was therefore simply referred to as "the Church." 4) Anyone who opposed the Church, went against it's teachings, or just pissed them off, was considered a heretic and heretics were killed, usually by being burned at the stake. 5) The only people with any kind of sort of decent education were those in the Church. 6) People were overly superstitious in those times. If you were distinctly different, you were thought to be a witch unless you decided to blame someone else of being a witch and casting a spell or curse on you. You didn't even have to be different; if someone hated you and wanted you dead, all they had to do was say you were a witch and start acting all weird whenever you were around so everyone would take it as "proof." 7) People who were thought to be witches were usually killed by mean of being burned alive at the stake.

Any questions? Put it in a review and I'll try to answer at the end of the next chapter.


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